


Leakage

by Catchinglikekerosene



Series: Universe 3: Living Trauma [2]
Category: Open Heart (Visual Novels)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchinglikekerosene/pseuds/Catchinglikekerosene
Summary: ‼️ WARNING: THIS FIC FOLLOWS THE TIMELINE OF THE LEAKED OHSY CHAPTER 10. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. ‼️The canister deployed with Becca in the room - how will this play out?
Relationships: Ethan Ramsey/Main Character (Open Heart)
Series: Universe 3: Living Trauma [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137896
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, my take on what happens after the leaked ch 10. I ended up cutting the snippet down to 700 words like I said I would but then I added more ~describey bits 🤦🏻♀️. The bold parts at the beginning are taken from the leaked chapter but i dressed them up a bit. Can’t wait to know your thoughts!!

**In the confusion, Senator Ed scrambles to his feet and bolts from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.**

**Becca hears a faint _hiss_ as the aerosol canister deploys. The heavy mist mostly hits Rafael and Travis on the other side of the patient’s suite grappling underneath the window panes, but a light sheen settles on her bare hands and tickles her throat.**

**“No!” Travis tries to shout in exasperation as horrible coughing fills the room. He gags and gasps, his face shining with an oily, transparent substance. The canister rolls under the abandoned bed, continuing to emit the gas until there was nothing left.**

**A loud “Hnck!” cuts through the fog.**

**She looked over at Rafael in stunned silence. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the white-painted brick wall under the windows, with Travis pinned down. Rafael’s naturally tanned skin glistened under the fluorescent rays, completely covered in the oily sheen.**

**“Raf, you're…”**

**“It’s on you too…” he pointed out with a nod of his head, his hands too busy restraining Travis. “What the hell is it?”**

**She opened her mouth to explain the situation they’ve unknowingly found themselves in, but a familiar velvet baritone voice called from behind her; “Becca?”**

**She looks to the door window to see Ethan looking inside, his blue eyes wide.**

**_…Oh, god._ **

“Don’t come in.” Her hands flew up to a halting motion. “It’s poisonous gas,” she spoke to Ethan through the glass window of the door. His eyes were clouded with worry and she could count every crease in his disconcerted face. 

He kept his voice level and as impartial as possible; Ethan didn’t want to startle her or add to the stress of the convoluted situation. Stoic, professional Dr. Ramsey asked, “What is it?”

She shook her head and shrugged. The remaining gas in the air began to reach her lungs. 

Ethan watched as the woman he had feelings for tried to stifle a cough and put on a brave face. He knew Becca would do whatever she could to make her symptoms appear less severe than the others’ so the team of doctors would prioritize everyone but her - she was selfless that way. But Ethan was not going to let her become a fatality. Not today, not ever. 

“I’ve called for help.” He was definitive in his tone. “I’m going to do all I can to help you.” 

Dr. Ramsey let Ethan’s concern glaze over his facial features for the briefest moment. The firm line of his normally plump lips drooped at the corners, his glassy eyes were heavy and the indent between his brows ever present. Their somber eyes locked, speaking volumes; apologizing, reassuring, implying three words that needed to be said. 

She nodded her response. 

Ethan stared at the scene in front of him. Becca’s knees folded underneath her, sitting uncomfortably on the cold linoleum in the threshold between the door and the private bathroom. Rafael sat against the wall under the windows with Travis slumped in his arms, the former paramedic’s muscles were tense as he held the cowardly assistant tight against his body. Ethan’s eyes squinted as he tried to diagnose the affected man’s symptoms from across the room. 

Becca followed his gaze, leaving Ethan behind and turning back to the perpetrator. “Travis! Travis what -” she questioned hastily between laboring inhales. “What was in the can? Travis!” 

Raf held the unconscious boy up, tapping his cheeks in hopes to wake him. Rafael’s deep brown eyes met Becca’s disquiet ones. He placed two heavy fingers against Travis’ neck, feeling for a pulse. It was weak but still there. With a shake of his head, his sorrowful orbs told her all she needed to know. 

Travis was the only one who knows what this noxious gas is and now he was his own victim. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“I feel some-” He took a gulp of air “-tightness in my chest.” Rafael shot her a ghost of a smile, hoping to assure her, “I’ve been through worse.” 

Becca nodded slowly. Nothing she could say or do could ever emend the situation. Information and facts circled around her but none of which revealed what the mystery mist could be. She could hear Ethan’s voice bellowing throughout the hallway, barking orders at nurses and unsuspecting residents. 

“Close all doors. Lock down the floor until further instruction! And somebody get this sorry excuse of a senator checked out!” His terrifyingly authoritative voice commanded, sending patters of feet sprinting in every which way. “Call Hirata,” he demanded next; just by his tone Becca knew he was running a shaky hand over his sweaty face, stretching his skin in agitation. “This is _her_ mess.” 

From the corner of her eye, Becca watched as Rafael’s head began to sway from side to side and his grip on Travis loosened considerably. Instantaneously, his eyes began to flutter closed. “Raf,” Becca’s cracked voice squealed, desperate to keep him conscious and focused on her. “Raf, stay with me,” she urged, sliding across the sticky floor and closer towards him. 

He mustered through fits of coughs, “No. Stay. Too danger-” It took a considerable amount of strength for him to lift his right hand up to stop her. “ _Hnck_!” Her trained eyes tried not to widen as she assessed the deteriorating condition of her close friend. 

Becca crawled closer to the doorway and away from the crash zone. She rested her head against the cool brick, inspecting her now-shiny hands. She mentally tried to recall every noxious gas lesson she’s ever had, hoping she could diagnose the situation before the hazard team arrived and she could save the lives of everyone in this room. 

_Nothing_. 

She was drawing a blank. 

The air around her kept filling with unknown, making it hard to form a long coherent thought. The mystery gas seemed to be multiplying covertly throughout the confined space, and it became increasingly harder to breath. The harsh white light began to dim and the room started to spin. Becca’s skin started to itch. She tried to keep her hands away from her face but the stiff weighted chemicals uncomfortably clung to the delicate skin of her cheeks and forehead. The inherent urge to scrub this off of her was taking control. She eyed the supply cabinet not too far away, just on the wall next to the bed. 

_There has to be cloths and wipes in there_ , she rationalized. 

Becca pushed herself up on shaky wrists, trying to stand on her feeble feet. She wobbled with the first half-step. Her chest then constricted, nearly knocking all life out of her; her forearm breaking her fall. In that moment Becca knew she wouldn’t be able move any further on her own volition - she was unhelpful and _helpless_. With her head lolled to the side, she prayed to every single God she could remember that the hazard team was on their way. 

_God._

_Allah._

_Ra._

The sharp white lighting was irritating. Becca let her eyes rest in shifts as she worked hard to recall every deity. 

_Zeus._

_Dionysus._

Her shoulders relaxed and she started to feel weightless against the hospital floor. 

_Thor._

She couldn’t feel the itching of her skin anymore. 

_Sia._

Her breathing slowed and the light against her lids, keeping her grounded, began to fade away. 

_Khaleesi?_

Suddenly everything ceased to exist.


	2. Chapter 2

After an eternity, the three-person hazard squad cautiously barreled into the hazy hospital suite to assess the situation and mysterious canister. The mist had settled on every available surface, covering it in a syrupy sheen and reflecting all rays of light like a bleak prism. 

Dr. Abatello, the first person on the scene, took in the sight of the young resident sprawled in the threshold blocking their pathway. He bent down and gently nudged Becca, looking for any sign of consciousness. She was breathing - slow and shallow. He motioned to his two team members - a point down with an index finger and then a level thumb. Dr. Wright and Dr. Stevens responded with the slightest of nods in their constricting body suits. Together they lifted Becca’s petite form onto a gurney and continued a quick inspection of her vitals. Dr. Abatello swiftly moved to where both Rafael and Travis lay piled and near-lifeless. Both boys were also found unconscious and struggling to breathe. Travis barely had a pulse- 

“Code blue!” Dr. Abatello yelled, jolting the other members into motion. Dr. Stevens was the first to abandon Becca to assist with chest compressions on Travis. Dr. Wright affixed an oxygen mask to Becca’s form then retreated to help Dr. Abatello carry Rafael onto a gurney. 

The victims and their assailant were transported to an available Operating Room large and secluded enough for them to be checked out without disturbing or distressing other patients. Ventilators were wheeled in to allow for the three to breath a bit better. 

With clean oxygen now flowing in her veins, life came back to Becca with a thick gasp. In hast-riddled confusion she yanked the bulky oxygen mask off, chucking it on the ground with a  _ thump _ . A nurse rushed to replace it with a more manageable nose piece. With as much strength as she could muster, Becca sat up on her gurney, judging the unfamiliar spinning room. 

Becca felt weak. Conscious again, but feeble. The nerves in her hands still agitated and on fire, no matter how many times a nurse tried to wipe the itchy oil away. The airborne remnants caked the hairs of her nose with a constant tickle. Her eyes felt heavy, their amber color hidden behind the black of runny mascara and purple of exhaustion. She was disconnected from her body. She felt like her head was stuck in a tumultuous cloud, looking down on those around her. 

Toby was still unconscious. One of the masked doctors in full PPE was poking and prodding, hunting for a stable heartbeat. 

Rafael's eyes kept fluttering in and out of consciousness. It seemed the mysterious gas had taken residency in his lungs, for the room erupted in coughs. He visibly looked drained and his deep brown eyes began to hollow

In the corner of her eye, she noticed a few figures stalking about up above behind the thick panes of glass. Through careful squints - noting two white coats, a short brown blob and a towering pale blob, and two navy blue figures - and deductive reasoning told her they were Naveen, Ethan and a few policemen in the observation deck. 

The concentration used up most of her deteriorating energy; her mind fought with her heavy eyes that kept drifting closed every few seconds. Becca wanted to sleep but she knew if she shut her eyes this time, she may never wake up. She withstood her body’s cries and tried to focus on the doctors working around her. They spoke softly as they hooked her up to an IV after drawing a few vials of blood, assessing her symptoms to come to solve the mystery toxin. 

Becca wanted to join their discourse; she  _ was  _ in the room where it happened, after all. But everytime she opened her mouth, she couldn’t focus enough to find the words. Her eyes kept darting up above to the wall of windows, willing him to meet her eyes. 

A familiar voice brought Becca back down. 

“Dr. Lao,” the abrupt british accent spoke through indistinguishable sterile hospital attire. Becca’s eyes briskly blinked as they focused on Dr. June Hirata. She was clad in a full white hazard suit with a zip up the front, bulky black boots, blue rubber gloves and a haz-mask. “Rebecca, can you hear me?” 

All Becca could do was nod. The coarse weight in her throat was too tight for words to break through. 

“Good,” June said as she made a note on her clipboard. “Can you speak?”

There was an acrimonious pause between them. 

“Ye - Yes,” Becca croaked, every syllable ripping her esophagus. She made a motion to her throat, indicating that some water would be really nice right about now. 

June didn’t look her way, her trained eyes stuck to the fluid motions of her pen. 

Becca tried to grab her colleagues attention, “My throats tight.” A nurse heard her plea and scurried away to grab a small dixie cup and straw for the patient. 

June still didn’t look Becca in the eye, keeping her attention on the chart in her hand as she continued with her assessment, “Do you feel nauseous?” 

Becca shook her head as best she could. Her eyes immediately shut tight at the motion, making the room spin and negating her answer. The inhospitable doctor added another tally to the long list of symptoms.

Dr. Hirata asked her a few more questions about her symptoms to compare with the severity of the unconscious patients. Becca tried to gauge her colleague’s expression but as always June was hard to read - using her carefully curated persona to her advantage and not bothering to manipulate her attitude on Becca’s behalf. They both knew that tactic was pointless. If she wasn’t presently terrified, Becca would have been thankful June was somewhat being herself. 

Nose stuck to her clipboard endlessly writing notes, June concluded, “We’ll be back once we’ve run some labs,” before backing away. 

Becca turned her entire body towards June, reaching out for her but knowing well enough not to touch. June heard the unyielding crunch of the gurney as Becca shifted her weight around, and finally met Becca’s eye. 

All of the energy Becca had mustered up was present in her ignited brown orbs. “Promise me you’ll save Raf first,” she seethed. For a split second June was floored at the young patient’s audacity, a simple raise of her brows betrayed her impassive expression. Becca caught the slip and reiterated, “Out of the three of us you’ll make sure Ethan saves Raf first.” She was full-on pleading. 

Everything Dr. Hirata heard about Dr. Rebecca Lao was true - she realized it at that moment. Becca would sacrifice herself for those around her. She would throw away a promising career and future for an EMT and the person who just tried to kill her. Rafael Aviero was meant to be leaving for a new adventure with his cousin in Brazil in a day’s time. He has family, friends, Sora, an entire community to care for. And what did Becca have? A handful of friends, endless stressors and $100k of student debt. 

June held her tongue. The tenured diagnostician knew full well that neither she nor Ethan could play god. She also knew that bringing the young doctor back to the reality of care was futile. 

She plastered a hollow smile on her face and said, “I’ll do my best.”    
  


Soon, half of the team was gone. Becca assumed they were busy running tests and trying to figure out their diagnosis’. 

She lazily watched the supervising senior resident interact with the nurse. The two were discussing their own theories and glancing over at Travis with true disdain. If it wasn’t for the Hippocratic Oath, she knew for a fact that they would have let him die hours ago. 

She looked over to Rafael. Asleep and with the affirming beeps of his machine indicating a weak but steady heartbeat.  _ This was all her fault _ . If she would have waited for the police to arrive before confronting Travis he wouldn’t have felt the need to save her. 

_ No _ , Rafael wouldn’t have saved  _ her _ . 

But he still would have been walking past the room and hearing the altercation between the constituents. Rafael Aviero has a sixth sense for those in danger - just like Superman. All Becca could do was hope that her being there created enough of a buffer to save his life.

She glanced up at the now empty observation deck. 

_ Of course this happened _ , she chuckled to herself morbidly.  _ The day Ethan commits is the day I die.  _

The constricting tension in her chest started to overtake her. She tried to keep her mind sharp by counting the tiles in the ceiling, tapping each individual finger along at her side. 

_ One,  _

_ Two, _

_ Three, _

_ Four,  _

_ Five…  _

Every time her eyes landed on a tile closest to the window she couldn’t help but think about Ethan. What he was doing, what he was thinking, how he was handling this... 

Her eyes fluttered shut as she recalled the look of utter crippling horror on his face from earlier. The strings of her heart tugged with guilt for putting him in this position. The agony started to spread throughout her chest. 

Becca wanted nothing more in that moment than to see his face once last time. 

Before, 

Slowly, 

She started to fade. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Ethan stood in the sixth floor observation deck with Naveen, looking blankly down on the fiasco below them. Two of his colleagues and a madman -  _ No.  _ Ethan had to shake the thought from his mind. The three of them were  _ patients _ being tended to for unknown ailments caused by a mystery toxin. 

He watched as Dr. Hirata barked orders at the hazard team who were briskly running about in what looked like intelligible circles. Nurses were scrambling while medical professionals in white suits and black masks sprung into action. 

A nurse and Dr. Abatello tended to the unstable coward laying there motionless. Ethan was never one to let personal feelings infiltrate his professionalism. However, selfishly today, his disharmonized orbs wished Travis would pull through - not to lead a happy life, no. The bastard couldn’t die just yet; Travis needed to face the consequences of his moral idiocy. Dying was too easy a punishment. 

In the middle of the madness was Ethan’s Tuesday morning workout buddy, heaving and clinging for dear life. Dr. Wright and Dr. Stevens had tore the shirt off his muscled chest in order to shock him back into existence. Rafael coded for 45 debilitating seconds. Now, he was more or less stable. His eyes opened and closed with each chilling cough before retreating back to blissful unconsciousness. 

Out of everything the great Ethan Ramsey has ever seen - today and in his entire life - nothing chilled him more than seeing his… his  _ girlfriend _ , for lack of a better word, struggling to stay. 

His eyes perpetually flitted from Becca’s insensible form and to the disturbing drama unfolding around her. Ethan was torn between wanting to critique Dr. Hirata’s every motion, yelling at Becca for the decision that landed them in this mess, and wanting to protect his heart with plausible deniability. Not knowing what was happening surely would have been better, but this was  _ The  _ Ethan Ramsey. He craved knowledge. He needed to know what was going on. 

He coveted a life with Rebecca Lao. 

Earlier, at the televised interview with Senator Ed to promote Edenbrook’s renowned Diagnostics Team, he confessed his intentions; Ethan Ramsey was  _ not _ single. Ethan Jonah Ramsey was wholly Rebecca Carolina Lao’s, complications be damned. 

His perplexed eyes locked with Becca’s unsettled form; she was twisting and turning, uneasily looking everywhere but up at him. 

Standing there a floor and a room away, Ethan felt absolutely powerless. He wanted nothing more than to run down there and put Becca out of her misery. He wanted to hold her. To tell her everything would be okay and that he’d stop at nothing until she was cured and  _ safe _ . 

But he knew he shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. Not to her. Not anymore. 

What kept him here, in his own circle of hell, was the order that as director and key witness Ethan wasn’t allowed anywhere near the commotion. 

A deep dispassionate voice cut Ethan out of his reverie. “Dr. Ramsey, can you please give a statement,” the gruff police officer asked, criticizing the despondent doctor with every impatient word. 

Ethan didn’t bother to turn towards the voice. He was still standing up against the window, transfixed on the motions below. 

After a bated pause he finally sighed an acknowledgement; “All I know is that Travis Perry unleashed lethal gas meant for the Senator. However, Dr. Lao and Mr. Aviero tried to stop him.” Ethan kept his voice level and unbiased as he recounted the former part of his nightmare. Though he couldn’t help emitting his disdain with the latter as he seethed, “The Senator is a coward and now two of Edenbrook’s finest are at risk of dying.” 

His venomous tone took the officers off guard. The two stout officers looked at one another, telepathically agreeing; 

“We’ll follow up if we have any more questions.” 

“Thank you, officers.” Naveen said as the officers shuffled out at a laborious pace. 

Now alone, Naveen could openly scrutinize his dearest friend. The small, older doctor tenderly placed a comforting hand on Ethan’s rigid broad shoulder. They stood in connected silence, observing Edenbrook’s premium care at work. Neither doctor knew what that canister contained and would be stumped until the hazard unit passed along their files. 

Naveen was riddled with concern - for his friend, for his savior, for his staff, for the hospital. This incident has the potential to ruin Edenbrook for good. But right now, here in this private room, he wasn’t Chief Banerji, he was sympathetic father-figure Naveen needing to handle his protege with care. The first words to break their stillness were established facts; 

“She’s a clever one, that Rebecca.” Naveen noted fondly. 

Ethan scoffed back, “Too clever for her own good.” 

Naveen squeezed Ethan’s shoulder tightly as the two men continued assessing the chaos below them. Although both doctors were on edge, one was teetering and ready to jump. The other was treading cautiously to pull him back from instinctive calamity. 

The words were soft and full of unabashed hope, spoken mildly in Naveen’s perceptive tongue, “If I was a betting man, I’d say her time here wasn’t over yet.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Ethan’s words were low and dubious. 

Naveen gave a hearty pat. “She’s a fighter.”

Even though both their gazes were set ahead, Ethan heard the smile in Naveen’s voice. Incredulously, he looked down at his mentor, wondering how he could be so cavalier in this horrendous time. 

With a knowing smirk the Chief of Medicine added, “She also has  _ you _ .” 

On instinct Ethan’s eyes shut tightly at the insinuation. His calloused fingertips rubbed his brow bone before settling on the bridge of his nose. “I let her down,” he tried to admonish Naveen’s encouraging words. “I let my feeli - our relationship get in the way.” 

Although Ethan stood there broken, Naveen’s eyes glowed at the admission. Finally, after all these years, his appointed son found his match. Circumstances and semantics forgotten, this was something to celebrate. Eventually. Naveen made a mental note to bring it up when this fiasco was put to bed. 

Ethan continued, “I should have never entertained her poaching of the Senator. If she didn’t we wouldn't be in this mess.” 

Naveen’s tenured orbs were full of sorrow. “You couldn't have known, Ethan.” 

The younger diagnostician forcibly threw his balled fists down at his sides, colliding with his upper thigh and leaving a large wrinkle in his otherwise flawlessly stark trousers. “I  _ should _ have known!” he berated; his brows creased, the divets in his forehead became more evident, and the vein in his neck protruded. “Nothing good could ever come from June Hirata’s schemes.” 

Now it was Naveen’s turn to have furrowed brows. 

With complete malice Ethan enlightened, “June gave her the idea. Handed it over on a silver platter.” He glared back down at the scene, finding June standing over Becca. The deep dark storm raging in his irises ever present. If looks could kill, Dr. Hirata would have been gone ages ago. 

“She knew Becca couldn’t resist getting back at Tobias -  _ hell _ , that’s exactly why I went along with it! I let personal feelings cloud our judgement.” 

“You couldn’t have known.” Naveen reiterated simply. “And anyway, it’s in the past. Let’s focus on preserving the future, hm?” He clapped Ethan on the shoulder, telling him it was time to leave the sanctuary and move on with more productive endeavors.    
  
  


Ethan begrudgingly made his way back to his office. He flatout refused to work on other patients’ files - the three quarantined were of utmost priority. Upon entering the empty office, he noticed a few things on his desk were out of place. With a curious eye he stalked over in a few long strides to see the Senator’s files sprawled out on his desk and tabs on the computer illuminated the room. He perused the evidence at hand with keen intrigue:

**Senator Ed's name was typed into a search engine in one tab with the results scrolled all the way down, dating back to when he was Mayor Ed. The open tab was a news article from years ago;**

**_Three dead in lead poisoning scandal…_** **_Aging lead pipes have been poisoning the water supply for years... three deaths including thirteen-year-old Jonathan Perry..._**

_ Lead poisoning. Perry.  _ Ethan’s eyes went wide as he put together the same pieces of the puzzle Becca had laid out. Travis was slowly killing the senator in the same way Ed’s negligence killed his brother back then. And Travis didn’t want anyone to know - that’s why he recommended Mass Kenmore for treatment and not Edenbrook’s leading team. 

_ Travis knew we would treat him quickly _ .  _ That’s why he tried to kill him tonight. _

But none of it made sense. What comes in a canister and gives off a sheer oily sheen with the power to kill on impact? 

***

An hour later the hazard team still had not gathered enough data to share with Dr. Ramsey. The diagnostics team were  _ still _ waiting for a tox-report on the canister from the police but were told it could take a day or two. Ethan nearly pulled his hair out - “They didn’t  _ have _ that kind of time” he shouted at an unsuspecting officer. The police didn’t really seem to care either way. 

Ethan sat at his desk restlessly and dutifully researching ailments and causes, getting his hands on anything and everything that could explain the symptoms June noted. There were six articles fanned out over his desk and two side-by-side windows on his computer. He was devouring information after information, yet nothing seemed to stick. 

Dr. Hirata was situated at the large round table, mulling over her notes and waiting for lab results. Once they had the bloodwork tested they would have a better indication of the severity of the toxin and treatment plans, if any. 

Ethan hadn’t spoken a word to Dr. Hirata since their tiff at the nurse’s station. 

> He had the nurses incessantly page and call the psychologist, forcing her to drop her plans and race to Edenbrook. 
> 
> Upon seeing her sauntering in over twenty minutes later, Ethan’s blood boiled in pure tormented rage. He couldn’t stop the malicious remarks falling off his tongue as he yelled at her to “get suited up” and “fix this mess”. 
> 
> June argued back but Ethan wasn’t listening. 
> 
> “Suit up or you’re fired.” The bitter mania in his eyes told her he wasn’t playing games. 
> 
> June wanted to retort that he had no precedent, but this wasn’t an argument she wanted to have right now; they  _ did _ have a few lives hanging on the line. Cooperation was key. 

Continuing to work through her paperwork nonchalantly, June cut through their dense silence. “She’s stable, you know.” The words were matter-of-fact and almost indelicate. Her back was to Ethan, not bothering to meet his eye. 

Ethan’s stiff shoulders wavered slightly, his rough grip on the mouse loosened, and his glare unfocused considerably. 

The words did what they were supposed to do: ease Ethan. 

June knew what she was doing considering…  _ everything _ . The calculated doctor threw her sparring partner and boss a bone, knowing full well he wouldn’t outrightly ask how Becca was faring. As much as she didn’t agree with their ‘ _ history’  _ June could only imagine what it would be like if the roles were reversed. She’d take a dejected director over an impulsive and ethically-challenged resident any day. 

Her words met his ears and her cadence sent an agitated jolt through his core. Never had Ethan wished he still had a private office more. He wanted to be alone. He  _ needed _ to be alone to scream, punch something -  _ anything _ \- and continue working without the tormentor lurking over his shoulder. 

His statement regarded Dr. Hirata with the same jarring curiosity, “That means nothing until we solve the case.” 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Ethan was becoming restless. His fidgety hands swept through his perfectly placed locks in every which way, disheveling them beyond reproach. Whatever leads he had come up with fell through with the next medical journal, and June’s cavalier attitude to their preemptive treatment plan was getting on his nerves. 

With a grumble and slam of his fist to the wooden desk Ethan finally decided to take a break. 

He stalked through the halls on a mission to grab some food - anything that could help pass the laborious time of the ticking clock. What Ethan really wanted was to clear his mind with an artisan coffee, though it was much too late for Derry Roasters to be open. He’d also be damned if he left the hospital before a firm diagnosis was made. Ethan couldn’t live with himself if something happened once he stepped away for a selfish moment. 

Dr. Ethan Ramsey found himself wandering through the halls of the nearly-finished fifth floor hospital wing. The same wing he and Becca spent many memorable days hiding out with Naveen; consulting, consorting, falling deeper into one another… 

_ Room 5112 _ .  _ Naveen’s room.  _ Ethan didn’t mean to venture to this desolate part of the hospital, his feet carried him here unknowingly. It was as if muscle memory kicked in and brought him to the one place he was able to find an escape. 

The last time Ethan stood in this inpatient room, it was seemingly the worst day of his life. He had to say goodbye to his dying mentor and dearest friend, knowing full well he was powerless against the mystery illness. Ethan did everything he could think of to save Naveen’s life but it wasn’t enough. When Ethan felt overwhelmed and incapable, Becca was there with him every step of the way. Every test, every hard decision. She was the voice of reason. 

And now the calamities of his life seemed to be repeating. There was nothing Naveen could say or do that could ease Ethan’s utter distraught over the woman he - he... 

Ethan’s hand grazed the glossy blue painted-metal door frame. The lights were shut off; the room was empty and sterile, like no one had ever been there before.  In the dim and ghostly lame fluorescent lighting , Ethan was acutely aware of the fact he was alone. Completely alone save for the spectral memories of his Rookie haunting him with each step, every inhale and every single blink of his clouded blues. 

Every moment the two  young colleagues were sitting at Naveen’s bedside telling jokes, batting around incessant hospital gossip or doing crossword puzzles, played like a film reel in his mindseye.  The waterline of Ethan’s eyes grew heavy as he recalled the last time the three of them were in this very room. All too soon, the bittersweet memory of kissing Becca openly on Hospital grounds that fateful day came rushing back.  The feeling of her warm cheeks and soft lips mixing with his salt-laden sighs. The way her petite hands supported him with every reassuring caress. The way the crook of her neck smelled faintly of gardenia and lingering coffee as he nuzzled against her. He remembered wretchedly leaving her in his ruinous wake.  _ I’ve failed her. Again and again and again. I keep disappointing her _ . 

Ethan would rather live that day a thousand times over than have to struggle through today. 

Begrudgingly, Ethan continued on his solemn path. 

On the same floor, he passed the very vending machine from not even two years ago. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his terse lips, thinking of that first day of her intern year. With a heavy sigh Ethan put a few coins in and picked up the bag of Geysers Exploding Fruit Snacks. He shoved the candy deep into his lab coat pocket as he continued on his mindless meander. 

With every heavy footfall the busy nurses station gradually came into view, and Ethan passed by it without a second thought. That was until a lovely sing-song voice called his name - his full name.  _ Dr. Ethan J. Ramsey _ . 

He turned on his heels to see his favorite graveyard nurse, Bea Lake, beckoning him over with a whistle and suggestive finger wiggle. 

Bea had been at Edenbrook twice as long as Ethan and she was still a force of energy given her age. She was short and stout with a blue and green ombre buzz cut to match Edenbrook’s signature colors. Seeing his colleague usually pulls at the corner of his lips - he always enjoyed her snide remarks and their brazen encounters. Bea was a wonderful maternal figure in his life, though he very seldom listened to the musings of the eccentric, wild woman. 

Her thick Bostonian accent stopped him in his tracks; “Where do you think you’re going?” 

He expelled a breath of air before quickly quipping, “I don’t report to you.” His voice was sullen, the torment and emotion just grazing the surface of his eyes. 

Ethan closed the few feet of distance between them so the woman wouldn’t have to holler. 

Fixing a chubby hand to her hip the tiny nurse sassed him right back, “No, but I do have news for you.” She had a playfully knowing gleam in her eyes that left Ethan perturbed. 

“I’m not in the mood for games, Bea,” Ethan sighed. His shoulders slumped as his fingers grazed the bridge of his nose. 

He certainly was not in the mood for conversation. There were too many what-ifs and could-be’s flooding his relentless brain. Ethan needed to be alone to process them and what they  _ inevitably _ mean. Nothing Bea could say would eradicate his woes. 

“Finally got ahold of Dr. Lao’s mother. She should be here in three hours.” 

Ethan’s head hung low as he let out another small sigh. 

The nurse took in the current disheveled state of the normally carefully curated Dr. Ramsey, and her green eyes softened. It wasn’t news that Dr. Ramsey had a soft spot for his fellow, and one could argue that the pair had become close friends in the last year, but Bea knew better. She had watched Ethan mature from a clueless intern to the renowned success he has become. She observed Ethan fall in and out of companionship with Harper Emery for years, and all of their lost lustful glances combined were no match for the way he speaks of Dr. Lao. 

“I suggest you grab a nap and a shower. It’ll be a long night for you,” Bea said with a knowing smirk to accompany her worried glare. 

Ethan shook his head, trying to dispel the theory the wise woman had known for months. 

*** 

Dr. Ramsey had done a few laps around the hospital to pass the time until he remembered today was Kyra’s surgery. He knew Becca would want to be there to support her and Bryce during the complicated and risky experimental procedure.  _ If it wasn’t for the Senator she would probably be camped out in the observation deck right now.  _

He made his way to the seventh floor observation room. Lackadaisically poured himself a paper cup full of water from the lonely cooler and perched himself on the center seat. Ethan was hunched over, elbows digging into thighs as he sat there fiddling with the unopened bag of childrens’ fruit snack and focusing his stare straight ahead. He surveyed as Harper, Tanaka and Lahela were hurrying with admirable precision. Kyra’s chest was wide open and Ethan could accurately see every infected lobe as they were removed and carefully discarded into a large silver bowl. This was invasive and risky. The sight of a dear friend in this compromising state should have sickened him. 

Everything he should have said plagued him. 

Ethan had always made it a point to never have any regrets. He believed that guilt and regret hindered the capability of a physician and thus tried to live a righteous existence. As he sat companionless and surrounded by uncertainty, Ethan couldn’t help but blame himself for everything that has happened. He reprimanded himself for all the missed opportunities, for all the times his bullheadedness and strict ethics got in the way. 

He regretted the things that should have been said. 

He thought he learned his lesson when Dolores passed and then when he thought Naveen would follow shortly after, but a creature of habit always falls back into their old ways. Ethan Ramsey was supposed to make Rebecca Lao a better doctor - nay - the  _ best diagnostician  _ of her generation. He was meant to push her to reach her potential but he - he… 

He clutched the package firm against his thigh, left hand loosely abandoning the water on the industrial carpeted floor and flying to find sanctity at the pinch of the bridge of his nose. Then rubbing up the bone of his brows, his tormented glassy eyes shut with the palm of his hand shielding them from sickening reality. He thought about the endlessly distracting woman fighting for survival without him by her side. Immediately, Ethan’s chest began to palpitate and his breath sped up erratically. 

His astute mind clocked his symptoms and knew exactly what to do. Ethan threw his head back, afflicted azure eyes forced to look at the questionable white popcorn ceiling, and began rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

_ One _ , he counted to calm his nerves. 

_ Two...  _

_ Three...  _

His shoulders slumped as his body began to regulate. But his mind wouldn’t stop racing. He gripped the candy tighter, popping the bag open, as his mind thought back to yesterday… 

> **_“We're almost out of time,” A.N.B. TV presenter Chris Aarons began to wrap up, “But my producer and_ ** **several** **_members of the crew have begged me to ask one last question.” He had a wicked glint in his eye as he looked at Ethan sitting between Dr. Lao and Senator Ed. “Dr. Ramsey... please tell us you're single.”_ **
> 
> **_Ethan could feel Becca trying to hide a smile as he studiously avoided looking her way._ **
> 
> **_He took a cleansing breath._ **
> 
> **_“I'm sorry…” there was a brief pause as Ethan prepared to take the biggest leap, chasing the risk with the greatest reward on local television. “But no, I'm not.”_ **
> 
> **_Chris wiggled his eyebrows, “Care to elaborate?”_ **
> 
> **_“No.”_ **

As much as Ethan hated the godforsaken promotional event, he knew Becca was right. She was  _ always  _ right, but he’d be damned before he admitted it. The publicity would work wonders for Edenbrook. He was proud of Becca for standing up for herself against the Senator and holding him to his promises to constituents on television for all to see. It reminded him of how she shaked down the Banner Health Reps for better rates last year. 

_ Rebecca is a force to be reckoned with. _

Ethan knew outing himself as a kept man would procure questions. He had the perfect professional response for anyone who dared enough to ask him to elaborate - “I’m devoted to my work.” Although he couldn’t use that excuse with her. 

> **_They found themselves standing close together in the green room after the senator stormed out to do damage control. Ethan’s lips a mere breath away from Becca’s; she stood closer to his height in her heels that she didn’t wear quite as often as Ethan would have liked._ **
> 
> **_Becca raised an eyebrow, her eyes meeting his with a slight quirk of her lip, “Not single, huh?”_ **
> 
> **_His hand brushed hers, hooking his index finger around her own. “What's that saying?” Ethan pretended to be deep in thought. “'It's complicated.'”_ **
> 
> **_Ethan leaned down every so slightly, his lips tentatively brushing hers. Lingering there for a moment and neither daring to do more. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Travis sticking his head in the doorway causing Ethan to pull away with a sigh._ **
> 
> **_Travis cleared his throat, “I'm about to drive the senator back to Edenbrook.”_ **
> 
> **_“...Coming.” Ethan’s contented eyes were still fixed on Becca grinning back at him._ **

He hadn’t seen her at all today; and Ethan regretted it. 

As her mentor and boss he should have made an extra effort to check in, even for a small moment - anything from a simple “hello” or a “how can I help” instead of an effortless page to grab test results from the nurses station. But that was the nature of their industry, constantly on the go and running around with no regard for their own personal affairs. Ethan wished he was courageous enough to seek her out just because he missed her. 

He missed sitting around the table just chatting with her about everything and nothing in particular. He missed the freckles that peeked through when she scrunched her nose and the all but suggestive way she’d bite her lip when deep in thought. He missed the wafts of flowers and citrus that always seemed to accompany the air around her. He missed her smooth voice and outrageous, heartfelt giggles that he  _ knew  _ didn’t erupt for just anyone. He missed her presence. Ethan always wanted Becca by his side.

_ What has she done to me?  _

They hadn’t spoken since he drove her home last night. The ride was short and neither said much; they were too engrossed in relishing the comforting silence and the warmth of their intertwined hands. The only words worth remembering were the sweet never-ending ‘goodnights’ and ‘see you tomorrows’ they batted around until she placed a loving goodbye kiss on his stubbled cheek. 

Deep in his loneliness, Ethan’s free hand cradled his jaw as if holding onto her phantom kiss. His skin tingles and fine facial hair stood on its ends as he envisioned receiving another coveted endearment. His discombobulated body was doing everything it could to keep her close. 

He should have said something. He should have done something more. And now she could be gone to him for good. 

But most importantly, he should have told her. 

**“Beeeeeeeppppp”**

The horrid sound ricocheted off the walls and scraped against his eardrums, vibrating the ground around him. In a force of habit, Ethan jolted to his feet ready to spring into action, taking long determined strides. 

The incessant buzz of his pager at his hip was drowned out by the horrid flatline. 


	5. Chapter 5

The balmy haze of the floor lamp embellished the otherwise mysterious and drab room in a bittersweet glow. The atmosphere was still, barring the soft ostinato of the crickets that hummed outside.

Becca gingerly rolled over onto her side, but was hindered by a firm lump.  Her eyes fluttered open at the impediment. 

_ What the-  _

The smooth, off-white plaster of the low ceiling was th e first thing Becca’s newly awakened eyes could focus on. Slowly, her fatigued hand crept up to her face, rubbing her eyelids to relieve the bothering fog from her hazy vision. It took her a few regulatory breaths to notice the familiar yellow fabric couch she was curled up on - the same one her and her roommates had bought secondhand last year. Her body felt light and well-rested, the only lingering symptom of her nightmare still present was the unrelenting pounding against her temples.

_ Was it all just a dream?  _

Still not completely liberated from her slumber, Becca weakly patted on the cushions in an attempt to release the bulges with no avail.  _ When did this sofa get so uncomfortable?!  _ She let out a strangled groan, flipping herself over to face the opposite side and away from the backrest. As soon as her cold shoulder met the cushion, a few hidden figures began to appear in the distance. 

The four shadows were creeping closer and closer… 

With terribly furrowed brows, Becca squinted a few times as she tried to make sense of the intrusion. Realization alleviated her apprehension and she expelled a breath of stale air; 

_ Thank goodness.  _

It was only her friends - Bryce, Jackie, Elijah and Sienna - hovering at the living room entrance in a courteous quiet. They weren’t moving or giving her the reassuring warmth they are known for. Her chosen family all stood there staring at her in complete stone silence; it was as if Medusa had viciously punished them. 

Something about this situation felt unfamiliar and dubious. Like everything was just a projection. 

Becca had noted that their sofa wasn’t as comfortable as the one she came to know; she wasn’t sinking into the plush, nor was she cradled from all sides by the massive throw pillows. Her stiff neck craned to take in the whole living room set - the walls were ghostly, stark and pale, their hodge podge decor was nonexistent, and Elijah’s prized 55” television was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, all notes of sunshine and the busy Boston street view were absent because the large windows were…  _ missing? _

Becca’s chest began to palpitate. Her dark amber orbs darted in every which way and laden with distress. 

_ What happened? _

Gradually all the images manifested before her all at once. She started to remember the case and Travis’ betrayal. She could vividly see Rafael wrestling with the assailant and the Senator locking the three of them inside. She recalled the cold feeling of the linoleum against her cheek as she struggled to breathe. 

But she was breathing now. 

Everything was okay. 

Her mind was still here; that had to be good news. 

_ Right? _

The debilitating silence was finally shattered by his familiar breathy whisper, “You’ll be okay, Becks.” Bry ce’s signature assurance faltered in his cadence, yet his megawatt grin still radiated deep into her core as he always did. Becca’s wild, desolate irises began to soften at the sound of her friend’s voice, assuring her of her closeness to reality.

“So much for a ‘drama free year’,” she heard Jackie chuckle morbidly. “You really know how to keep the hospital on their toes”. 

The standoffish doctor stood there, rocking side to side with her arms crossed over her chest. Jackie’s deep brown eyes were hard with expected judgement, yet hints of softness peered out around her pupils. Firm arrogance was Jackie’s default look and the hint of pity left Becca unsettled. There was something they weren’t telling her. 

Next to speak was lovable Elijah. He had his doctor’s coat still on and a comic in his lap. Through his infectious smile Elijah’s voice cracked, “I promise I’m going to channel my inner Bec and give Sothey the lessons he deserves. You’re the best doctor there is, Becca.” 

Becca went rigid at the melancholy statement. 

The next words spoken ricocheted against the walls and fought for dominance with her throbbing headache. “Oh, Becca… I love you.” 

The sweet yet sullen sing-song voice of her best friend rang through to her core and Becca’s eyes began to well. “You’re amazing. I kno - I know you can fight this.” Sienna was trying to be her always assuring and positive self, yet her words were laced with a hint of vengeful fire.

_ Fight what? We’re here. At home. Aren’t we?  _

Esme’s voice was the last to filter through, although from what Becca could tell her intern wasn’t present among the phantoms. Becca’s head whipped around, trying to locate her. “You aren’t going anywhere, you got me?” The intern demanded. “You’re stuck with me. I am making your life hell for the rest of our time at Edenbrook. You have no choice.”

Confusion struck Becca.  _ Where is that voice coming from? _ Her brow further creased and her breathing started to increase yet again. 

With frenzy rising within her, Becca forced herself to sit up - having e very intention of confronting her friends. Her weightless feet touched the ground and yet she was stuck in place. She fought against the invisible binds as she attempted to reach her arms out to them, writhing against the vexatious cushions. 

Suddenly, she noticed Bryce’s flawless, warm glimmer turn to icy stone.  _ Something was happening… something bad if Bryce looks that dreadful... _

Then Jackie’s glare followed suit. 

Then Sienna’s and Elijah’s. 

One by one her friends started to vanish, disappearing with just a blink of her cognizant eye. Their shadows formed together, their essences morphing into her favorite face.

The one with that always put her at ease.

The one with the thick, tickling stubble trailing along his chiseled jawline. 

The one with the delicate lips pursed into a hard line.

The one with the harrowing Mediterranean blue eyes.

That one with the concern etched into his brows.

He was uttering something that she couldn’t hear. 

Her soul was raging against her paralyzed form, fighting to reach out. Needing to grab onto his hand and let him know she was here. That she is okay. 

Though he seemed close, they felt miles apart; exhaustively out of reach while he was just standing a few meters away.

He hadn’t been this far away in months. 

Becca couldn’t fathom what felt worse: his abandonment and rejection, or this cruel unknown. Knowing that here and now she’s unable to touch him, to comfort him, to tell him. 

Her heart sank even further. 

Becca tried so desperately to speak, to tell him exactly what had happened. Her jaw unhinged a few times, trying to formulate her aberrant thoughts into coherent statements. 

Nothing came out. 

The words died before they even reached her wilted tongue. Becca tried to expel a large huff of air but even that was nugatory. Her body had thoroughly failed her.

In the distance she could hear him sigh. When she turned to assess his towering form, he wasn’t pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s so prone to do.  Instead,  he stood straight and stoic, with shoulders squared and arms folded against his chest, just like when they first met. The only emotion behind his temporal orbs reflected that same look of shock of when he found her stranded under Travis’ hand. 

His words were uncharacteristically just above a whisper and his lips barely parted. “I’m sorry. I failed you,” he called from afar before evaporating into the void like the others. 

_ Ethan... _

Becca felt a warmth at the top of her head. A clearing sense of peace began to wash over her whole body, an incandescent white encompassed the space around her. This time she didn’t shy from the light, she welcomed it. 

This time the ethereal rays lifted her away.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Once Ethan recovered from the waves of shock that jolted him just minutes ago, he clutched the ceaselessly vibrating pager at his hip. He read the missed messages once… twice… the third time they finally settled in; 

_Travis is gone, Aviero is critical and Rebecca…_

Ethan couldn’t bring himself to read the rest of the text. His heart couldn't handle its inevitable contents. Frustrated, Ethan ran a precarious hand down his face, his palm pressing into his lips. It took everything in him not to leave vicious bite marks on his index finger. Ethan moved towards the glass and watched his colleagues scrambling around the operating room with haste. The deathly beep was tuned out as he stared straight ahead, fixated on the blinking red lights below. The invariable flash illuminated a light bulb within him; 

_A clear substance and trouble breathing._

How could Ethan be so _daft_? 

In the next few hours of Ethan’s day from hell, he and Dr. Hirata engendered a preemptive treatment plan based on his educated suspicion. With a congruent nod, June continued with the motions of ordering the medication and delivering the treatment outline for both patients to the appointed nursing team. Now alone in the diagnostics room, Ethan slumped into his expensive tan leather chair to take a _much_ needed break. His head leaned against the headrest and his heavy eyes took a moment's rest. His subdued solitude didn’t last long. For no less than five minutes later he received a call from the Visitors Desk. 

Ethan bounded through the harshly lit hallway into the waiting room. His perceptive azure eyes scanned the large room from left to right; clocking couples, families and small children, and there she was standing in the far corner wringing her fingers together. She looked nothing like her daughter and yet Ethan knew just who she was - the resemblance in their auras was uncanny. The older woman had short, sandy blonde hair, wore tan slacks and a black peacoat. Her purse was a forest green leather and looked undoubtedly heavy. Her fair features looked distraught and rivaling Ethan's, yet she still had a warmth about her to coincide with her rosy cheeks. 

“Ms. Lao,” his assertive, level doctoring voice called as he stepped further into the waiting area. She looked at him, taking in his tall frame before crossing the distance. He held his hand out and the two pairs of stormy ocean eyes met. “Dr. Ethan Ramsey.” 

She slid her aged hand into his, giving it a squeeze and a firm two shakes. Ethan held on, cupping their joined hands with his free one, speaking volumes under the cover of sorrow. Though he kept his expression professionally indifferent. 

Donna Lao looked him up and down. He was towering, more handsome than any other doctor she’d come into contact with in the last fifty-five years, and he looked beyond exhausted. The name sounded vaguely familiar but she was too concerned to connect the dots. “How is she? What happened?” 

Digging his fists deep into his pockets, Ethan urged, “Let's speak in my office.” 

Donna nodded her head and followed on his tails into the elevator. Just as the steel doors shut, the seemingly famous name clicked in her mind. “You wrote a textbook, didn’t you?” She inquired with a small smirk.

She remembered countless times she found her daughter curled up on the couch by the den window or on a towel in the grass with her nose in a thick green text. She recalled the name and all the times Rebecca would excitedly speak about working for Edenbrook, and then all the times she’d complain about the disillusion of her “asshole boss”. 

Ethan pressed the button for the fifth floor. “I wrote a few, yes.” 

The elevator started moving up. As little indicator kept increasing in numbers a short silence befell them. They stood on opposite sides, both of their gazes stuck on the metal doors.

Donna broke the insipid silence. “The infamous Dr. Ramsey,” she mused, peering at Ethan through her peripheral vision. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“I’m afraid to ask.” 

“My daughter doesn’t tell me much, but you’ve definitely left your mark.” 

The next words fell off his tongue unwittingly, “The feeling is mutual.” 

Ethan scolded himself for letting the statement - a flash of his _personal feelings_ slip. The air around them became stifling, seconds felt like minutes and he wished the elevator didn’t move at a glacial pace between the next two floors. Dr. Ramsey has had to have difficult conversations with family members before. But this was different - this _felt_ different. Donna Lao is the mother of his mentee - his resident - his _Rookie_. It shouldn’t be this bad. 

Ethan tried his hand at small talk to put them both at ease, “The drive went well?” 

“I wasn’t pulled over for speeding,” she smiled with a small snicker. “I did a 5 hour drive in 3-20.” As soon as Donna Lao picked up the phone - after two subsequent messages from Hospital staff - she hopped in her Chevy Equinox and sped through, taking the long way around without bothering to wait for the ferry across the Sound. She took every interstate and back road that would get her here at a grueling 70 MPH speed. 

A ghost of a smile coated Ethan’s lips as he kept his attention fixed on the indicator. He could see a lot of Becca in her mother; her ability to make light of a terrible situation, an infectious smile, a heart that would do anything for those she cares about. He had always wondered where she got her moxie, and in just a few minutes with Donna Lao he now knew. 

The elevator erupted with a satisfying ding and the pair expelled a gust of air between them. Donna walked a step behind Ethan as they made their way to the Diagnostics Office. He unlocked the door and flipped the lights on. 

She didn’t let them settle in before blurting out the most important inquiry; “What happened?” 

Ethan motioned to the old leather sofa for her to take a seat on. Donna slightly nodded, understanding this was going to be a grave and long conversation. He took the armchair next to her and ran through the series of events and Becca’s current condition. 

Still clutching the handles of her purse in her lap Donna looked Ethan right in the eye, “Can I see her?” 

With a sorry, flat smile he noted, “I’ll take you down there once we know how she’s responding to treatment.” Ethan stood and moved to his coffee station sideboard to give the woman a short moment alone to process. 

Donna shut her eyes and expelled a breath. Her baby was in pain and there’s nothing she can do to help. There’s no affliction greater than losing a child and Donna _could not_ let that happen. 

When he was sure she was ready to talk, Ethan offered, “You’re welcome to wait here. That couch is a lot better than the stiff plastic in the waiting room or cafeteria.” He motioned at the sofa she sat on as an ill-fated attempt to raise her spirits. For some reason or another, Ethan Ramsey was nervous in her presence. His finger grazed the “Brew” button after readying a mug, “Would you like some coffee?” 

Her sky blue eyes were still shut. “That’s kind of you.” Donna turned to look over at the oddly friendly doctor. “Thank you.” 

Ethan began pouring a second mug for himself. “Don’t tell anyone I’m sharing. I have a reputation to uphold,” he joked, the tail of his lip quirking up into a petite grin.

Raising a thin, blonde-tinted eyebrow she challenged, “And what would that be?” Donna began to feel more comfortable, like she was having an impromptu meeting with an old friend, and placed her purse on the open seat next to her. 

“She hasn’t told you?” Ethan scoffed. “Apparently I’m an ‘asshole’ and a ‘goddamn diva’.” 

That put a smile to Donna’s face as she recalled the things her daughter has said about the renowned man. Donna and Rebecca didn’t have a close relationship - in actuality, Becca kept her personal life rather private. Up until she moved away for Med School they really only ever spoke about classes and her eating habits. All it took was 3,000 miles between them for the independent women to speak more freely and without judgement. Though, both Becca and Donna still held onto their fair share of secrets. 

She watched as his shoulders rounded and glare softened as he recalled the memory, all the while mixing creamer in her coffee mug. Donna’s amused smile flattened into a sentimental leer. “You two are close.” It wasn’t a question. 

All Ethan could do was nod as he kept his eyes fixed on the steam radiating off the much-needed caffeine. 

“How close?” 

“I suppose…” he hesitated. He himself didn’t know how to answer that topic of conversation; he certainly couldn’t pour his heart out or recount their rocky relationship to his colleague’s mother. So he decided on a partial truth, “We’re close friends.” 

Ethan handed the Edenbrook branded mug to her. 

“She makes it a point to befriend the strangest of individuals,” Donna noted, relishing the smell of french vanilla wafting up. 

Ethan was about to comment on how true of a statement that was, his tongue about to tell her how absolutely incredible her daughter is. But he was interrupted; 

“Ethan -” June busted in. She took in the sight of the older woman leaning back into the leather, sipping on one of Ethan’s coveted holy grail. Her eyes narrowed, “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

Ethan turned towards his peer and immediately responded, “Dr. Hirata, this is Dr. Lao’s mother.” 

“Pleasure. Sorry about the circumstances,” June sent a curt and hollow sympathy to Donna before turning back to Ethan. “Our hunch was correct - carbon monoxide poisoning.” 

Those words were music to Ethan’s ears. He was right and they caught it early - _Becca has a chance_. “How are they responding to oxygen therapy?” The words fell out of his mouth and he switched back into Doctor-mode. 

Donna noticed the shift in the room and stood, “I’ll give you some privacy.” She abandoned her mug on the glass coffee table and scooted out the door. 

“Still unconscious,” Dr. Hirata began rattling off. “Lao is responding. Aviero is coming around but I’m more concerned about the neurological damage. His scan shows decreased function.” 

*** 

Forty minutes later, Ethan found Donna in the cafeteria munching on a package of almonds and lost in a paper cup of hospital dishwater. 

He cleared his throat a few paces from her table, “Sorry for the wait. Are you ready?” 

Donna folded the package of almonds up and placed them back in her bag. She gave him a solemn nod as she stood and followed him to her daughter. 

Becca had been moved to a private observational testing room. The teams were keeping her quarantined until the tox report came back. Ethan reckoned it would be at least two days, but who knew with the incompetence of the police department. The only ones allowed into the room had clearance - and Ethan was not on that list.

The two entered the cramped cube, observing the woman they both cared deeply for suffering alone. She was still unconscious and hooked up to a heavy-duty oxygen apparatus. She was stripped of her clothes and put into a short hospital gown to keep any lingering toxins away from her recovering form. Her hair was tucked behind her head but he could still see the runaway strands waving in the flow of the controlled air. Even in this state she looked so beaut - _peaceful,_ and Ethan noted that the medication Dr. Hirata had prescribed seems to be keeping her at ease.

Both their eyes were focused on counting each rise and fall of Becca’s chest in the distance. “She’s still unconscious, but stable,” Ethan informed. He looked down at the shorter woman and instructed, “You can speak to her using this.” He pointed at the microphone and tapped the yellow on/off button in demonstration.

Donna’s frozen blue eyes gingerly moved from her daughter and to her doctor, “Do you think she’s comatosed?” 

“No. No I do not.” He shook his head once, trying to keep his icy eyes from exuding his own fears. “I think she’s had a rough day and needs rest.” His long fingers fiddled with the audio board. “Dr. Hirata relayed that her brain activity is normal.” 

True to form, Donna mirthfully scoffed, “She’s never been normal.” 

Donna began speaking to her dear daughter through the microphone. Ethan promptly waited outside the small box to give the family members’ a private moment. His chest tugged with an irrational pang of jealousy. Logically, Ethan knew he could partake in the exact same action as the woman and for a longer period of time. But that wasn’t enough. 

Ethan Ramsey needed to be in the room with her. He needed to see the numbers, to hear the assuring beeps of her monitor, to feel her warmth. He just _needed_ to be near her and make sure she was okay. That little voice in the back of his head - _her voice_ \- kept telling him not to make a fuss, that she’ll be okay and there’s more deserving patients needing his expertise. Yet Ethan shook it away. No one could ever be more - 

The metal door squeaked open and Donna stepped out, pulling Ethan out from the depths of his deprecating mind. 

“All good?” he asked. 

“So it seems.” She shrugged and Ethan could see the glossy coating in her irises. “Thank you, Dr. Ramsey.” 

“My pleasure.” Instinctively, he was about to squeeze her upper arm in reassurance, just like he’d done with the younger Lao time and time again, but thought better of it. He wouldn’t do that with a normal patient’s family member. To hide the motion he rubbed the back of his neck. “We will keep you updated,” he promised, eyes averting to the linoleum. 

Donna threw her purse up on her shoulder and spoke a grateful and final, “Thank you.” She smiled and Ethan took the hint that his first encounter with the mother of the wild woman he adores had come to an end. 

Out of courtesy he asked, “Can you find your way out?” 

“I’ll be fine,” she brushed him off with a wave of her hand. 

Ethan shot her one more nod and began to turn on his heels. 

“Oh, but can you point me to the cafeteria?” she called when he was only two strides away. “I’m meeting Dr. Trinh there.” 

“Of course.” 

Ethan guided Donna to the cafeteria, not too far away. They walked in a relatively comfortable silence, aside from the little quips about how big Edenbrook is and how so-far Boston is nothing like New York. He hummed and laughed when appropriate, grateful for the little distraction she gave. 

He was the first to spot Sienna waiting on line at the coffee machine. “Dr. Trinh,” his deep baritone voice bellowed. 

Sienna jumped in place at being caught by the most demanding of attendings, and Ethan regretted his tone immediately. “Dr. Ramsey! -” the tiny resident spun around, ready with an excuse as to why she wasn’t doing her rounds. “Oh! Hi, Ms. Lao.” Sienna visibly relaxed when she realized Donna was the reason Ethan was calling her name. 

Sienna bounded over and enveloped Becca’s mother in a comforting hug. “Please, call me Donna,” she instructed, breaking their embrace. The older woman then turned to Ethan, “Thank you again for your help, Doctor.” 

Once more, Dr. Ramsey bid adieu, “Have a good evening.” 

As Ethan walked away he heard Sienna relay, “Here’s Becca’s keys. We’re going to be here late but help yourself to anything at all! Oh - and I think Aurora will be home first at around nine o’clock.” 

_At least the woman has Becca’s friends to console her in this trying time._

***

Later that evening Ethan wrestled with Naveen, intellectually bouncing back and forth with him to gain privileges into Becca’s room. The Chief of Medicine was adamant on keeping the biased director away from the close case. Not long ago he watched his protege become devastated as he attempted to treat his own near-terminal illness for months. He recalled Ethan’s broken eyes and thick baggage. Naveen did not want that for him once more. 

When Ethan would not relent, Naveen finally gave into the torn, broken look in Ethan’s eyes as he begged his mentor for clearance.

“Go,” Naveen sighed, noting the detectable relief suddenly washing over Ethan’s features. “But if you intervene, Ethan - ” 

“I won’t. Promise.” Ethan nodded, giving him a silent yet indebted ‘thank you’. 

The Director of Diagnostics loitered at the nurse’s station across from Becca’s room, waiting. He waited until her five friends finished speaking their well wishes over the microphone before he got into full garb. It wasn’t wise to rub his clout in their faces, or draw any foreign attention to their dynamic. 

Kitted out in protective gear, Ethan finally entered her room. 

He intentionally strode over to her frozen figure - he couldn’t cross the small distance fast enough. Becca’s face was ghost-like, pale and near-lifeless. He could see the faint indent of her dimples and her golden freckles easily. _Oh, how he missed her smile…_

He stood at her bedside speaking to her softly, a small phantom of a whisper;

“You couldn’t have waited, could you?” He growled, watching her chest slowly rise and fall. Ethan was angry, _so angry_ at her, but one look at that adorable face and he could just forgive her if she’d open her eyes. _No one’s life is more important than your own. You’re so goddamn impulsive it’ll be the death of me._

Ethan turned his head towards the beeping monitors behind him, checking her vitals. He ran through the numbers and was content in knowing they were superbly normal. There was no need to panic. Not at present. 

He looked back down at his Rookie. Her petite hands rested above the crochet blanket covering the lower half of her body. Ethan reached out to graze her skin, a sliver of hope cautioning him not to wake her. Lightly he took her hand in his gloved one, running his thumb delicately over her knuckles. Not letting her from his hold, hh took a seat on the uncomfortable cushioned chair beside her bed. 

Here in this room with the buzz of more machines than he’d be willing to count, Ethan Ramsey - a man who doesn’t believe in greater forces - implored the woman before him and wished with everything he is, _Open your eyes, Rookie. Let me see that you’re okay._

A small droplet of saltwater threatened to fall from the tip of his nose and against the clear plastic of his face covering. He inhaled sharply to keep the sinister affection at bay. He let his unoccupied gloved hand brush over her forehead, smoothing out her wild baby hairs and lingering there for a moment or so.

His next words rang clear as day, “I’m sorry I’ve failed you.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Under the dewy-coated dusk of an early Boston morning, familiar brown eyes fluttered open with a dense gasp. It was as if life had found her once more. Her entire form was limp throughout; her lean muscles almost non-existent, her chest felt hulked from the events of the last two days and yet was buoyant with the concentrated oxygen flowing directly through her nostrils. 

“Urgh,” Becca groaned under the harsh fluorescent bright lights as a blanket of a white, blurry fog surrounded her tired pupils.The chamber was flagrant and so  _ bright. _ Still under the spell of noxious fatigue, she blinked a few solid times, her authentic vision starting to emerge. 

Becca went to touch her face, needing and trying to inspect the pressure she felt against her cheeks and chin, but a slippery hand stopped her. To her right was a large figure in blue and white in full indistinguishable garb. 

“It’s an oxygen mask,” His level baritone voice explained. 

She gave him a nearly unnoticeable nod. Her eyes drooping with exhaustion, her head feeling weightless, and her throat aching with lodged sandpaper.

“W-water,” she croaked. 

“Sure. Let me page your doctor,” Nurse Geoff replied softly. His eyes were focused on finishing up his notes in her chart before promptly leaving her completely alone in this unknown situation. 

Becca stared at the blank ceiling, consistently blinking every few moments to try and make sense of this dream sequence. She couldn’t believe she was really here, just before she could have  _ sworn  _ she was at home napping on the sofa. She tried to pass the minutes by counting the beeps of the machines attached to her in the deathly quiet atmosphere. Luckily, after not even five minutes, a team of medical professionals came bounding in.

Becca couldn’t really remember all the questions being thrown her way, between the lengthy questions about her memory, her vitals and how she felt.  _ Heck _ , she couldn’t even place who her silky-voiced doctor was beneath all that PPE taking the lead of the interrogation at her bedside. 

The only thing she could partially remember was being transported from the inpatient room with Rafael by her side, and after that everything was void... 

***

On the other side of town, Ethan Ramsey had finally been ushered home to change clothes. He had consumed four strong cups of espresso coffee and took a two-hour nap in his tempered bed. As far as his exhausted limbs were concerned, his willful mind was well-rested. Ethan was just about to turn on his gaslight stove to cook breakfast when the shrilling rings of his landline echoed from the side table in the living room.

In four long strides he rushed to pick up the phone, “Hello?” he grumbled. There were only two people in the world that had his landline number: his father and his mentor. __

_ If  _ they _ were using this number it must be urgent.  _

“Good morning, Ethan,” Naveen greeted with an emanating smile. “Have you gotten some rest?” 

Not in the mood for pleasantries he responded, “I’m fine, Naveen. What is it?” 

“When are you planning on coming in today?” 

Ethan looked to the small antique wooden clock on the mantle, it was 6:26am. “Eight. Why?” 

Naveen paused and Ethan could tell just by the way he expelled his next breath that the old man was nodding to himself. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Naveen!” Ethan chided before hearing the deafening  _ Click  _ of the line _.  _

His cryptic message had Dr. Ramsey stumbling about the condo to find his cell, his pager, and briefly checking his emails. Anything that would give him any indication as to why his mentor was playing cruel games. 

Ethan’s thoughts went to Rebecca - _ Surely if she took a turn for the worst someone would have told me? _ He couldn’t take that chance. He quickly threw on another one of his standard suits and bounded towards the door. In his hurry he completely forgot to grab his spotless white coat that he had discarded on the back of a dining chair.

He made it to the hospital in a record 11-minutes time. He stormed through the desolate corridors to the third floor, Becca’s floor. He caught Dr. Banerji alongside Dr. Hirata and Dr. Abatello in a deep discussion beside the nurses’ station. 

Ethan announced his presence with a gruff clear of his throat. 

“Good morning, Dr. Ramsey,” Naveen grinned as the three doctor’s turned to face the newcomer.

Ethan’s cheeks were flushed from the swift motions that brought him here, his ears red with anger and eyes beyond distressed. “Morning,” the diagnostician grumbled a hollow pleasantry back. 

“Dr. Lao is awake.” June enlightened. “We were just speaking of further progress. I’ll catch you up later.” 

A sudden deeply rooted weight lifted out of his chest at her remark. His lips parting into a minute, gracious simper. June discretely nodded knowingly. Both Hirata and Abatello shared a curt adieu as they left to continue with their tasks. 

Ethan went to speak, but the words left Naveen’s lips first, “She woke up an hour ago. A bit disorientated, but healthy. Doctors Hirata and Abatello have just finished running tests. I assume they’ll have a copy on your desk shortly.” 

“You couldn’t have told me this over the phone?” Ethan huffed, shaking his head at his dubious mentor.

Naveen bit the inside of his cheek to keep the telling smile from his features. He knew very well that both telling and withholding the information from his appointed son would breed the same outcome. “You’re here now, aren’t you?” 

Ethan stifled a yawn, running a hand down his tired face.

Naveen placed a hand on his friend’s sunken shoulder. “Give it a few hours, will you.” He instructed. “Let her rest, do your job, and  _ then  _ visit her.” With a point of his aged finger and knowledgeable brown eyes locking with those sorry blues he added, “But only if her doctor’s say it’s okay.” 

“I am-” 

Naveen’s stern gaze made him bite his tongue. 

Ethan sighed in pure defeat, “Understood, Chief.”

***

Becca was alert. 

She had spent the entire morning being scanned and poked and prodded. Although she felt  _ fine,  _ she knew the underlying effects of carbon monoxide poisoning. She was overtly thankful the Diagnostics team was on her case, especially with June being lead diagnostician. Becca knew the direct doctor wouldn’t sugar coat anything; she was straightforward and honest with Becca about her condition and treatment plan. 

What Becca loathed was  _ being _ the patient. As a patient, she wasn’t privy to knowing how Rafael or Travis were doing. She wasn’t allowed to view or critique her own chart. She wasn’t even allowed out of her  _ damn _ room. 

Before her midday shift, Sienna came to have breakfast with her - the tiny doctor eating her bagel in the booth while the two close friends conversed over the microphone. They  _ finally _ let Becca eat once they had finished the multitude of tests, serving her grained toast and bland scrambled eggs. She was excited when Geoff sauntered in with a tray and then grimaced when she tasted the rubbery meal. 

_ How is it possible to mess up eggs!? _

Becca felt extremely uncomfortable in her body. Internally, everything was aching and operating in what felt like slow motion. Externally, she was sticky and confined by the wires attached to her. Lastly, the hospital gown she had been changed into felt like paper against her flaky skin. She desperately begged Sienna to smuggle in some moisturizer which was met with a small laughter. 

“It wasn’t a joke!” Becca exclaimed through a hoarse voice.

“Sorry, hun I can’t. You’re Patient Zero - I’m not even allowed to bring you  _ socks.  _ I tried.” 

In an even tone Becca asked, “What happened?” 

“I’m not too sure, no one’s been allowed near you since it happened.” Sienna took a large bite of the bagel and spoke the next words with a semi-full mouth, “Dr. Hirata hasn’t told you everything?” 

“June’s not one for long stories. She just told me the facts: I have carbon monoxide poisoning. We were ushered to an OR to be checked out before divvying us up and administering treatment,” Becca sighed. “I remember the can exploding, but not how I got here and without my clothes.” 

“That I can answer -” Sienna quipped. “They’re waiting on the police department to confirm there weren’t any other toxins. You were stripped and cleaned with a hose. Once that comes through I can give you a big hug! And a sweater!”

Becca scoffed, “Thanks.” 

The next few hours Rebecca blankly stared at the ceiling and wished for a television or laptop or phone - anything that could distract her from her thoughts. She spent it counting the black specks on the ceiling tiles, trying to focus on the conversations happening out in the hallway, and willing herself to recall what she’s been through. When nothing but a blank white canvas appeared, she willed herself to sleep.

Becca’s ears awoke with the heavy  _ click _ of the door. She let out a sigh knowing it was a nurse here to take her vitals once more. Her eyelids hesitated opening, wanting to hold onto sleep a bit longer to pass the grueling time. Metal scraped against the floor and the chair beside her creaked. She lifted her lid just enough to peer at her companion, trailing over the white jumpsuit she’s come to hate and up to the plastic headdress. 

His eyes were locked on her. 

“I’m loving the fancy dress,” she muttered drowsily through a crooked smirk. 

“It’s a precaution.” Ethan shook his head, he couldn't help but smirk at the sound of her dulcet voice dancing in his ears once again. He dove straight into the facts; “The police still haven’t confirmed carbon monoxide was the only chemical used. Should only be a few more days. Your carboxyhemoglobin levels are decreasing steadily. If all goes well you’ll be discharged Sunday.” The words fell off his tongue with expert ease, as if delivering the news to another nameless patient. 

But this wasn’t a nameless patient. This was Rebecca Lao, the woman who torments him in every possible way. 

Ethan’s shoulders relaxed as he moved to sit back into the chair and folded his arms across his chest. He couldn’t believe she was okay. In the last daunting hours after settling on a diagnosis he’d gone over every possible scenario; and very few of them ended with an unscathed recovery. He wasn’t quite sure she was real. This all seemed too good to be  _ real _ \- she shouldn’t be strong enough to joke with him right now, but there she was, unabashedly being herself. 

Ethan Ramsey had never put much stock in hope, but as he looked over at her adoring doe-brow eyes he just might think there’s even some forces out of his control. The first being the force of nature before him. 

_ Boy _ , was Becca glad to see Ethan. She felt better knowing that he was there for her, as always, he has her back. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, ask him, tell him. Her mind was racing as she watched the sea of doubt swirl within his irises. She  _ knew  _ this event had rattled him, and she regretted putting him through the ringer. But she didn’t regret her choice - if everyone was alive it would have been worth it. 

Seeing him sat there all sullen because of her, she has never wanted to say those words more. It was as if those weighted words had the power to absolve all their woes. If only she could just  _ tell him _ .

He wanted to tell her the same. But the situation deemed otherwise. 

Becca knew Ethan wouldn’t hide things from her - he was a straight shooter when it came to life-or-death bits of information. She’d worked hard to get to this level of trust with him. 

She spoke next, “How’s Raf?” 

Without skipping a beat he delivered the first fact, “He and Travis were most affected.” His azure eyes moved from hers for a split second, conflict evident in his hesitation. “Travis didn’t make it. Mr. Aviero is being monitored just like you.” That’s all he was going to say. He didn’t want to worry her or make her erratic, and unfortunately for Becca, he also was bound by HIPPA not to tell her more about Rafael’s condition. 

She could tell he was hiding something, but let it slide just this once. 

The two kinda-lovers looked at one another in silence for a long while. Ethan leaned forward, elbows meeting thighs as his hand grabbed hers, careful not to jostle the IV port. He ran sweet caresses over her knuckles and she squeezed his fingers as tight as her fatigue would allow. Their eyes never parting and speaking the words stuck in their throats; affection, sorrow, longing, apologies, gratitude. A wealth of feelings were swirling around their dilated orbs. With every passing second the air around them thickened, covering them in solitude, and both pairs of eyes glazing over. Both doctor’s fighting hard to keep their melancholy tears at bay. 

Becca needed to change the subject. The weight in the air was too heavy between them and if they stayed like this any longer they were sure to fall apart. Now wasn’t the time to have the fated talk. 

She tore her eyes from him and fixed them on their joined hands. “How bad is the publicity?” Becca chuckled weakly, knowing full well this was sure to cause a political and administrative scandal. 

Ethan’s fingers went idle. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he scoffed.  _ Of course she’d be thinking about anything but her own well-being.  _

Her words were grave and matter-of-fact, “This is going to ruin us.” 

“Stop it, Rookie,” he admonished. “Edenbrook can handle itself.  _ You’re _ more important.” His free hand flew to cup her cheek but retracted before making it halfway. 

She watched the motion and her small smile faltered. She remembered -  _ of course _ she remembered - him admitting their relationship status in such small words. How could she ever forget? But here Ethan was hesitating again. There’s no one around, no one  _ allowed  _ in the room with them and he still stopped himself. Her eyes looked at their intertwined hands, the warmth radiating off of his into hers was muted by the thick rubber. 

Another selfless question was asked, “How’s Kyra?” 

“How are  _ you _ ?” Ethan retorted just as quickly. 

“I’m fine.” A shit-eating grin erupted on her features as she hummed her next words, “My doctor’s got me on a strict oxygen regimen.” She had a gleam in her eye that he didn’t deserve. 

Ethan scoffed more to himself than anything, “I’m not your doctor.” 

“No?” she raised a brow. 

The facts were laid out in front of her: Dr. Hirata has been running point which meant she was a diagnostics patient, thus Dr. Ramsey’s patient. 

“June is,” he replied flatly. “The Chief took me off your case, though I’m allowed to ‘consult’.” He made an air quotation gesture at the last remark. 

Ethan wasn’t going to tell her about the tirade that forced his hand and let nearly the entire hospital staff know his bias towards her. He wasn’t going to tell her that he was an emotional wreck and Banerji nor Hirata trusted his judgement in the OR. He wasn’t going to tell her that his feelings for her jolted him to the point where it took him several  _ hours  _ to figure out her uncomplicated diagnosis and administer a treatment plan. He wasn’t going to admit that having Hirata taking the lead instead of him was in Becca’s best interest. 

The words settled in and Becca’s eyes narrowed. “Just here for some top shelf company?” she quipped with a critical eye, lacing her fingers with his as best she could through the glove. 

For the first time in 24 hours a genuine smirk graced Ethan’s lips, “Donahue’s isn’t open this early.” He tried to keep hold of his default indifferent glare, though it was proving more and more difficult in her presence. With a shrug and a leer, he added, “I guess you’ll have to do.” 

Rebecca laughed as best she could. Her chest was still relatively tight, though the concentrated oxygen flowing through her nose piece was doing wonders. Her eyes turned into half moons, her nose scrunched and her freckles danced in the lighting as she giggled. The unexpected laughter left her a tad lightheaded, causing her hands to fly to her temple in an attempt to steady the world around her. 

Ethan leaned over, gently pressing her back into the pillow. He refilled her cup with water from her personal pitcher, then brought one of her hands down to grasp the cup. She brought it to her lips and sighed as everything around her fell back into place with every languid sip. 

He sat on the edge of his seat and watched her come back into her own. As she rested, he decided to change the course of conversation. 

“Your mom’s here,” Ethan informed through another long silence. “Dr. Trinh has her staying in your room.”

Becca knew that. Sienna told her all about her mother’s journey and disposition, even how Jackie caught her mom up at 5am cleaning the kitchen before going to grab fresh bagels for them all. She wasn’t going to tell him that. Becca was too intrigued to know how Ethan knew about this bit of personal information. 

She raised a cocky eyebrow, “You met my mom.” It wasn’t a question. 

“She’s your emergency contact,” he contradicted. 

She sassed him right back, “You just said you’re not my doctor.” 

Ethan’s mouth fell agape and she noticed his tongue pressed against his bottom row of teeth. She bit her lip at the sight. Gradually, Ethan finally realized she was teasing him in her own way. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of falling into the antic. His eyes softened and his voice lowered in rare earnest, “She’s worried about you.” 

The way he was looking at her with his docile, hooded baby blues sent a euphoric warmth throughout her body. Becca squeezed his hand tighter as their gazes locked, as if one anothers' lifeline. She felt the air shift around them, alleviating the tension and opening to facilitate the much needed conversation. “And?” she urged, legs jittery as she turned her full body to face him. 

_ Come on, Ethan... _

“And what?” His brows furrowed, that sweet little divot between them making itself known. 

She shot him a knowing look. 

Becca watched as Ethan’s face contorted. His hand left hers and hovered midair. She knew Ethan well enough to know that he was itching to rub his face, to hide himself behind his large hands until his racing mind could settle on an  _ appropriate  _ response. Instead he tore himself away from her and cradled his masked head in his hands, expelling the longest and loudest of sighs she has ever heard. 

His voice was uncharacteristically whisper quiet, as if he didn’t mean to speak the words. “You scared the living shit out of me.” He turned to meet her anxious orbs once more. Naturally, Becca’s torso leaned over to him as best she could with all the wires taped to her body, reaching out for him. 

Terrified blue met expectant brown, “Don’t you  _ ever  _ be that reckless again.” 

That’s… not what she expected to fall from his lips. 

“Ethan…” she fell back against the stiff mattress. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t let him die. I had to do  _ something _ .” 

“Call the police! Or security!” he exclaimed. “You did not need to go down there and face this on your own.” He was visibly exasperated. The three creases in his forehead at attention, his crows feet sullen, and then the half moon wrinkle at the corner of his lips from years of crooked smiles was nowhere to be found. 

“There wasn’t time,” she continued her justification. “They both would have died.” 

“You don’t get to play  _ god.”  _

She sighed, countering in a soft brittle voice, “Isn't that what we do every day?” 

His hand found hers once more. “Rebecca…” he whispered the next words loud enough for her to be certain of his devotion, “I - I can’t lose you.” Just then, with his stare focused on their adjoined hands, two of the faintest of tears rolled down Ethan’s cheeks, getting lost on the stubble at his chin but leaving a glistening trail in their wake. 

There it was. The closest they’ve ever come to those fateful three words. Becca’s heart simultaneously fluttered and broke into a thousand harrowing pieces. It pained her to know she was the source of his torment. Yet the butterflies at her core and fullness of her chest overshadowed any semblance of doubt with a requited knowing that he felt the exact same way. They both were finally being honest. She was finally going to tell him; 

“Ethan… I -” 


	8. Chapter 8

Ethan’s blue eyes tentatively observed her from where he was perched at the edge of his uncomfortable seat. The nerves in his hand were alight as she clutched onto him tighter. The cool and controlled air swirled around them. The whooshing of the machines became all the more incessant. He braced himself for what was coming - he knew it was coming. He  _ felt  _ it too. The breath caught in his throat, his Adams apple bobbing uneasily as Ethan watched her lips move and tongue curl with the impending sentiment. 

“Ethan… I -” 

Their escalating conversation was interrupted by an unwelcome creak of her metal door handle. Ethan’s head whipped around to shoot a deathly glare to the intruder. Nurse Geoff unsuspectingly sauntered into Becca’s room to inform Dr. Ramsey that Dr. Banerji was waiting for him back at the nurses’ station. 

Ethan nodded and expelled a vexed breath in the nurse’s direction, leaving Geoff unsettled as he discreetly backed out of the tense room. Ethan turned back to Becca with apologetic eyes, “I’ll be back later.” He carefully stood up, shifting his weight in the annoying hazard suit. He squeezed her hand gently once more, lingering before detaching their palms as he shifted to go.

In the last few hours, Ethan felt lighter. 

A ghost of a pleased smile was permanently quirked in the upturn of the corners of his mouth ever since Becca had woken up. All morning no one dared to question his seemingly blithe attitude. Though, Esme did try when the two were consulting on one or Dr. Lao’s patients. He gave a gruff admonishment to the remark when asked him about his sudden mood change, and if he was “happy Dr. Lao is doing better”. 

Rebecca’s near-admission had left Ethan full - full of hope, full of certainty, full of anxiety, and full of  _ something else _ . 

He turned out of Becca’s room to see Naveen standing at the nurses station, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he patiently waited for his protege. 

As soon as Ethan was in earshot, Naveen spoke, “I’m pleased to hear that your  _ mentee  _ is awake.” the Chief of Medicine smiled brightly, given the circumstances.

Taking in his oldest friend’s body language, Ethan figured his retrieval wasn’t for anything remotely disastrous. Ethan folded his arms, non-verbally asking why he was disturbed. He had only been with her for less than an hour,  _ technically _ he was still on his lunch break. 

“We’ve gotten the police report,” Naveen informed the standoffish doctor. “The copy is waiting for your team in the office.” 

Ethan looked over his shoulder and back to Becca’s room. He knew he should finish their conversation, he owed her that much after all this time and mixed messages. They  _ deserved _ to talk about what all this means. Though, deep down, he still wasn’t ready for that. Ethan still hadn’t researched all avenues and detailed all possible outcomes and scenarios to their coupling. Even throughout all the certainty attaching itself to his cells, he was still that scared eleven year old boy burned by supposed unconditional love. 

For once in his life, Ethan Ramsey didn’t have the answer. He didn’t have a  _ clue _ . All he knew was that woman back there meant more to him than logically fathomable. 

He looked back to Naveen who had an arm outstretched to the side, signalling it was time for the two to go. Ethan quickly discarded his attire and the notable diagnosticians wordlessly walked towards Ethan’s office.

The manila envelope sat atop the mess of failed research he left in his exhausted wake. Slowly walking behind his protege, Naveen took a seat across from the large desk, crossing one leg over the other as he waited for the news. Ethan’s hand grazed the folder, acutely afraid of the contents. Naveen shot him a reassuring smile. 

Ethan’s quick mind scanned the report at a reluctant pace, needing to savor every word. 

“No other toxins,” he sighed with contention. 

“That’s wonderful,” Naveen replied, offhandedly following up with the next step in treatment, “She’ll be more comfortable in a less invasive inpatient room.” 

Ethan didn’t say a thing, still looking down at the paper in front of him. 

“Her friends will be excited to see her,” Naveen noted. 

Still nothing. 

“Ethan?” the older doctor called, his voice laced in concern. “Everything alright, son?” 

The undecided man let out a sigh and looked his friend deep in the eyes, “We need to discuss something…”

***

After Naveen and Ethan’s talk, the younger diagnostician threw himself into reviewing new case consultations that flooded his inbox in the last 48 hours. With Becca awake and in no imminent danger he felt better about leaving her in the capable hands of his colleagues. 

Around early midday, a knock came to Ethan’s open office door. 

The womanly voice spoke, “Dr. Ramsey.” The voice was familiar and an odd jitter ran through his bones. It was a sensation he had never felt before, accompanying the twinge in his heart.

He turned from where he stood considering the information on the whiteboard, “Ms. Lao, hello.” 

The older woman was in an almost identical outfit to yesterday - black peacoat and green purse - hair perfectly side swept, and presence near-identical to the woman that bound them together. With the news of Becca’s easy recovery it was harder for Ethan to keep his indifferent disposition; he was glad for the both of them that she was alright. However, now, without a clouded mind riddled with uncertainty and fear, Ethan’s body went rigid. It was as if realization washed over him; he was speaking with the mother of his…  _ girlfriend _ ? 

“Hi,” she greeted before moving to expose her reason for intruding, “They tell me she’s being moved?” 

“Yes.” he nodded, his body fully facing her. “A good thing; you’ll be able to see her shortly.” he reassured. He didn’t let her speak before motioning to his Holy Grail, “Coffee?” 

She was skeptical. Donna recalled the short tales her daughter’s roommates told her about working with Dr. Ethan Ramsey, none of them rather inspiring. They goaded on about how he was a brilliant physician but a resounding jackass to everyone. Well, everyone  _ but  _ Rebecca. Piecing bits of the story together from most of its characters, Donna began to see the bigger picture; the way her daughter spoke of the man, the way he seemed to care for her, and the way bystanders could pick up on the different demeanors' exuded. 

“Are you always this nice to your patients' family?” she asked critically. 

“No,” he scoffed with a shake of his head and a small smirk as he began running a pot. 

Silence fell over them. Donna moved further into the office, stopping just beside the glass coffee table. Her purse hung in the crook of her elbow as her arms folded over her short torso. 

“Can I ask a bold question?” 

“You can.” Now it was Ethan’s turn to be skeptical, yet he schooled his features, already dreading whatever her remark. “No promises I’ll answer it.” 

“What happened between you two?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Yes you do,” Becca’s mother sternly challenged. Both pairs of blue eyes met, one all-knowing and one abashed, as Donna further presented the evidence, “Rebecca spent years fawning over your work. Every time we spoke she had something to say about you, and then she didn’t.” she raised an eyebrow at him. Her thick New York accent pushed, “Now you’re offering me coffee.” 

_ No point in denying my indiscretion.  _

Ethan sighed, “I suppose that’s my fault…” 

She gave him another pointed look, urging him to spell everything out for her. 

Ethan spoke to Donna just as he would her daughter, with honest intentions, “We have a complicated partnership. After her brilliant work on last year’s case I tried to sever it.” 

“It didn’t work.” 

“No. It didn’t,” He agreed. “Your daughter’s almost as stubborn as I am.” Another phantom smirk pulled at his lips and he poured the saving liquid. 

Donna let out a small chuckle with a bemused shrug, “She gets what she wants.” She placed her purse down and settled into the armchair. “Certainly didn’t get that from me. Her worst traits have her father written all over them.” 

Ethan crossed the distance and handed Donna the same mug from yesterday, “For what it’s worth, she’s an incredible woman.” 

***

After Ms. Lao and Dr. Ramsey spoke platonically over a cup of coffee while waiting for Becca to be moved, he was finally able to pass along the room number to Donna along with some directions on navigating the maze-like halls. As much as Ethan wanted to be the first one to welcome her without the hazardous garb, he had other business to attend to. His conversation with affable Naveen enlightened him and his words with Donna kicked him up the ass. Now it was time for him to formally speak with Chief Banerji. 

Late that evening, hours after visiting time had ended, Ethan knocked on the green metal door of Becca’s new hospital room. She was curled up on her bed, against the pillow and watching some movie on the small TV. At the sound of clapping footsteps she promptly hit the pause button on her remote, sat up and cocked her head to the side to catch a glimpse of who stood in the doorway.

“Feeling better?” He asked, walking into the room and shutting the door softly behind him.

She pulled the crochet blanket up around her. “Yes, much better.” She smiled, though not fully reaching her eyes. The whites of her eyes had a tinge of pink and her cheeks blushed. Ethan chalked it up to exhaustion. She raised a brow, “Where’ve you been hiding?” 

She hadn’t seen Ethan since early morning and according to the reruns on television it was closing in on 11PM. 

“I haven’t been  _ hiding _ ,” he almost scowled. “I do have a job to do; I  _ am  _ down a team member.” Ethan retorted, perching on the edge of her bed. That small smirk still all the more present at their banter.

Becca rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back in a week, don't get your balls in a bunch.” She scoffed, trailing off as she fell into his eyes. His blues were clearer and almost jovial, while her own were far from matching. Becca bit her lip as she continued with what’s been on her mind since she found out, “Why didn’t you tell me about Kyra?” Her smile faltered and suddenly she looked betrayed and broken. The caking crust in the corner of her eyes and glistening streaks now made sense. 

“Rookie…”

Kyra flatlined during surgery. The sheer amount of Gotex needed and lengthy surgery was too much stress for her frail cancer-riddled body. She was in critical condition; hooked up to a ventilator and unconsciously clinging on to dear life. They were able to remove most of the infected lobes but had to abandon some in order to save her life. 

“I could’ve handled it.” Becca retorted. Ethan wasn’t meeting her eye, they were staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “I heard it from my mother who heard it from my roommates…” her hoarse voice cracked as she rambled on. “Have you seen Bryce?” 

He solemnly shook his shamefully hung head. “No, I haven’t.” 

Becca let out a curt, strangled gasp. 

Ethan peered up at her, unsure as to if she wanted him here or not anymore. Slowly he watched the dam break within her as the brewing storm began to ravage her recovering body.

Her lips were quivering and sentiments were falling off of them in an inaudible fashion. “...she's gone. What if she’s really gone?” Becca croaked. “I didn’t - I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye.” Her doe orbs full of grief and loss and Ethan’s heart was in tatters. 

He knew he should have told her about him witnessing her dear friend’s surgery and excruciating revival. He also knew he should have told her about Rafael’s long road to recovery in fixing his impaired hearing and vision. Though they weren’t his details to share. Rafael Aviero had blown his left eardrum and had decreased brain function; to this moment the ex-EMT still hasn’t woken from unconsciousness. 

Ethan scooted up the bed and wrapped his arms around her as the sobs wracked her body. He tucked her into his chest, letting the salt water stain his white button down shirt without a care. One arm wrapped around her back, running soothing patterns up and down her exposed skin with the tips of his calloused fingers. His other hand found solace in cupping her cheek and holding her flush against him. 

He leaned down into her greasy hair that still smelt like sweet citrus even after everything, and muttered, “I know… I know.” 

Ethan Ramsey could be her mentor and speak about how this was to be expected, how Kyra is strong but sometimes strong patients lose the fight. How they’ve been prepared for this type of outcome. How loitering in grief hindered their professional judgements. 

But none of that mattered. 

Here and now, Ethan just needed to be there for Rebecca. She didn’t need to ask him to hold her or whisper words of encouragement. She didn’t need to tell him how she needed to be consoled. Ethan knew - it was second nature to him. 

They stayed like that for a while. Ethan rubbing nonsensical patterns and lingering pecks to her temples, soothing her into easy submission. 

In all the events and commotion of the last few days, Ethan Ramsey has realized that there never is a ‘perfect timing’. Later will always be pushed off because life will always keep happening. As much as this was less than ideal circumstances, now was the time. 

“I spoke with Naveen.” he said softly. 

Ethan consulted with Naveen both as a dear friend and advisor, and then formally as Dr. Banerji about his hope-to-be relationship. For the first time, Ethan poured his heart out; saying all the words neither diagnostician could predict, although Naveen hoped this day would come. From the moment his two mentees returned from Miami, the old man  _ prayed _ for this day to transpire; later than he liked, but here nonetheless. The Chief of Medicine promised to keep the confession secret until  _ both  _ doctor’s were ready to speak with Human Resources. The two were bound to face a hell of a lot of criticism and needing to sort out their united front before going public. But they would face it together. And really that’s all any of them could ask for. 

Becca pulled away, craning her neck to shoot him a confused look. 

“The risks…” Ethan grasped her hand in his and began his lengthy explanation, “The professional ramifications... are nothing compared to never giving this -  _ us _ a proper shot.” His besotted eyes darkened as they bore into her. “I’m sorry. I’m  _ so sorry _ I’ve been pushing you away.” 

Rebecca laughed, a hearty hollow laugh. Her eyes shut tight, her head thrown back and white teeth reflecting the light through her chapped lips. 

“What’s so funny?” Ethan retorted incredulously. 

“You’re so fucking morbid,” she giggled. “It takes me almost  _ dying  _ for you to want to date me.” 

“You know that’s not -” 

She placed a petite hand on his chest to stop him. “I know, we’re complicated. Though, you have to admit, if this shebang didn’t happen you wouldn’t have taken the leap.” She called him out. Ethan went to retort but she was quicker with a justified and critical, “Admit it.” 

“I… you’re right.” He sighed, both thankful and disbelieving of how well she knows him. The next sentiment to fall from his ready lips was delicate and honest, “I’ve been trying to figure us out on my own. I don’t have to.” He placed a gentle finger under her chin, tilting her to look him in the eyes. “There’s two of us in this relationship.” 

Her face scrunched and eyebrow rose, “We’re in a relationship now?” 

His eyes went wide and his mouth hung agape. Ethan’s grip on her faltered slightly -  _ How could I have read the situation wrong? Isn’t this… what she wanted?  _

Becca shifted in the bed as best she could in the exposing hospital gown. Ethan watched her motions in stunned silence as she folded her legs underneath herself and knelt before him. He followed her unintentional command, sitting up straighter and shifting to face her fully. His arms still slack where she had left him moments ago. Becca watched as he shifted uncomfortably in place. 

A little glitter in her irises, she trailed a hand up his thigh, noting how the tense muscle twitched under her touch. Both of them hadn’t been more thankful to be out of the hazard room - to be able to  _ touch  _ one another again. Even if this was the end, Ethan was happy he got to hold her one more time. He held his breath and observed her hesitantly. Her eyes followed her light path up his body; his slack-clad thigh to where his shirt was tucked at his abdomen, over the thin fabric on his taut torso, then gripping his navy blue tie in her one hand. 

Apprehensive blue was met with bewitching brown. 

Becca bit her lip and tugged on the tie, jolting him towards her ever so slightly on the cramped bed. She ran her free hand up his pec to settle on the broad slope of his neck. Their noses were mere inches apart, eyes completely locked. Waiting. 

Her minute exhale caressed his now-flushed cheeks, wafting an enticing lingering mint and vanilla in the little space between them. 

Ethan’s Adams apple bobbed with a gulp of his dry mouth.

Becca leaned closer. 

Her eyes flashed down to his soft, breathless lips. Then back to his ocean eyes. 

With a devilish smirk, she let out a sultry whisper, “I’ll have to inform my other boyfriends of this development.” 

Not one second later, Ethan tenderly captured her raring lips. 


End file.
